


Sotto Il Vischio

by awayfromsight



Series: Baltimore Affairs [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Baltimore, F/M, Mistletoes are a wonderful tradition, belated Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awayfromsight/pseuds/awayfromsight
Summary: “I’m assuming that you won’t take no for an answer.“ It’s a statement, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.“I won’t, no. As always, your brilliance is dazzling, Bedelia.“





	Sotto Il Vischio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotPersephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/gifts).



“Our time is up.“

Bedelia looked up from her watch, across her living room to her current and only patient, Hannibal Lecter, illuminated by the last of the winter sunshine streaming through the large windows behind her.

Their session had gone extraordinarily well, mostly due to the good mood Hannibal seemed to be in.  
Cheerfulness, in his case, apparently translated into an eagerness to share. Tales of Christmases past and cherished had spilt from his person suit, bursting through the seams and buttonholes. 

As she got up to retrieve their customary glasses of wine, she was surprised to find him following her into the hallway and reaching for his coat. 

“Are you leaving?“ 

The word “already“ silently followed her question, as did the barely concealed disappointment. She had gotten used to him lingering around after the “professional“ part of their arrangement was over and dealt with.  
She had gotten used to him being with her.

He reached into his breast pocket and walked back towards Bedelia, a square, black box in his hand, wrapped in a silver bow.  
“No. I was simply getting your Christmas present and I know, you think you can’t accept it but I’m not giving this to you as my doctor but as my…friend.“

Hannibal extended the box towards her, silently relieved when she accepted it, albeit while rolling her eyes, to show her annoyance at his persistent rule breaking, examining the meticulous wrapping. 

“I’m assuming that you won’t take no for an answer.“ It’s a statement, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. 

“I won’t, no. As always, your brilliance is dazzling, Bedelia.“

They share a knowing smile as she began to untie the bow carefully and lifted the lid of the box.

“Hannibal, that’s… I can’t possibly accept this.“

Nestled between dark velvet fabric and a sprig of mistletoe lay a silver necklace with a brilliant icy diamond pendant. 

“I insist that you do,“ he said, looking not at the gift but at her, “It reminded me of your eyes and when I saw it, I felt that you should have it. Accepting it can be your gift to me.“

Bedelia briefly considered arguing with him but quickly came to the conclusion that it was to no avail. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

With a sigh, she lifted the necklace out of the box and set it aside. Walking towards the mirror down the hallway, she lifted her hair to the side and turned her back to him.  
“Will you help me?“

Hannibal’s face lit up for the hundredth time that day since he first laid eyes on her in that red dress he loved so much. With a few quick strides, he stood behind her, taking the necklace from her hands and reaching around her.

The diamond felt cold on her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of him, radiating through the layers of clothing separating them. Something that was, at this point in the usual routine, almost unusual. They rarely spent more time out of her bed than in it after their weekly hour had concluded, the once so pridefully upheld walls between them nothing more than ashes at their feet. 

Their eyes met in the mirror, admiring the diamond or, in Hannibal’s case, the way it looked on her. 

“Perfect. I knew it would be,“ he whispers against the side of her neck before pressing a kiss there, resting his hands on her shoulders and sending shivers down her spine.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Hannibal. You really shouldn’t have.“

Bedelia raised a hand to the necklace, spinning to face the man behind her again, immediately finding herself in his embrace. 

He glances down at the diamond resting just above the neckline of her dress, and then further down her body.

“I can’t say I agree.“ 

Pulling her frame closer to him, Hannibal rested his hands on her waist and bent down to capture her lips with his, feeling her smile against him. To him, this was better than any material possession he could have been given. 

They part after what could have been minutes or hours, still standing as close as physically possible in the middle of her hallway. 

“As much as I am enjoying every part of this gift“, Bedelia said after catching her breath, resting her head against his chest, “I think we still have to decide between the Merlot and the Riesling.“

She could feel him chuckle, stroking her back through the fabric of her dress.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone that. Jack requested my opinion on a profile and I’ll be too busy over the holidays to take the time…“ he trailed off, seeing her face harden, retreating behind the mask of Doctor Du Maurier. 

“Of course. I shouldn’t have made assumptions like that… You should best get going then.“

Taking a few steps back, Bedelia didn’t meet his gaze again, keeping her eyes focused on the door instead. 

Internally, she was berating herself for letting her guard drop, for slipping up so foolishly. Whatever happened between them outside of his therapy was meant to remain entirely without emotional attachment. She should never have gotten used to his presence in her kitchen, after their session or in her bed after their wine glasses had been emptied. 

“Why don’t we just move our plans to tonight? Revising the profile shouldn’t take too long and it would finally give me the chance to cook for you.“ 

Searching her face, Hannibal tried to melt her resolve with another smile, hoping to persuade her. His infinite need to remain polite and on good terms with the FBI wasn’t meant to ruin the limited time he had with her.

Her face remained passive.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your plans. I will see you after Christmas.“

His face fell, not bothering to hide his disappointment like she had earlier.  
Walking back to retrieve his coat and towards the door, he turned back to her, not giving up the glimmer of hope for a kiss at the door, any sign that the situation could still be saved before the new year. But she had retreated back into her kitchen already, storing away the second wine glass she had set out earlier. 

So he left.

Hearing the front door close as she poured herself a generous glass of wine, Bedelia began berating herself. She had always prided herself on her resilience, her strong sense of morality and her drive to stay focused. But Hannibal, even before he broke out of his role as her patient, had the ability to bring out her indulgent side. The side she usually kept repressed in front of others.

He seemed insistent to know all of her, to treat her to everything she could ever want. 

She lifted the glass of wine, swirling the dark liquid around as if to try to hypnotize herself enough to erase all thoughts of him from her mind. 

All she saw, however, was the reflection of the diamond necklace. Yet another reminder of him, invading her life and her mind, coaxing her out from behind her walls and into his arms. 

Bedelia set the glass back onto the countertop and began toying with the pendant around her neck, holding it between her fingers and looking out into the hallway.The box he had given her was still set on the side table, the mistletoe nestled in the middle as if waiting to be picked up.  
She briefly thought about throwing it away, about cutting every tie she had to him and trying to reassemble the pieces of her resolve. She had thought about it all before, wondering if going back to her life “pre-Hannibal“ was even possible. 

When he had suggested to stray from their routine, something in her had shut down, like a room going on lockdown, deafening alarm bells ringing inside her mind. She kept justifying her dismissive behavior of his idea as means to protect herself and her integrity as his therapist, despite the voice in the back of her mind telling her that she wanted to spend her evening with him. 

Another deep sigh rose up within her, something she had come to associate with her musings on Hannibal Lecter and before her mind could really catch up with her body, Bedelia found herself standing in front of the jewelry case, the wine forgotten in her kitchen. 

There was a war waging between the strong, relentless grip on her self-defense and the growing desire to, for once, allow herself to get lost in him. 

So she began to pace aimlessly around the vast emptiness of her house, trying to find a place that didn’t remind her of Hannibal too much. They had sat in the living room talking a mere few hours ago. The kitchen had been the place of many shared glasses of wine and more prominently, their first kiss. She had rudely left him standing in the hallway and just the thought of retreating to her bedroom made her blush. 

After walking what felt like every square meter of her house, sitting down and getting back up in various places, Bedelia had come to the conclusion that the majority of her home held some sort of memory or connection to Hannibal and their relationship.  
A life without him, so it appeared, seemed so impossible because he had become such an inherent, omnipresent part of it. The hours they spent together were his favorite part of every week, he had told her that before, whispered against her skin when he held her close. But they were her favorite, too. 

Pulling herself out of her trance, Bedelia walked back to where she had started, in front of the little, black case, like a magnet being pulled towards its opposite pole and reached for the mistletoe inside the velvet lining. 

The next rational thought that surfaced in her mind did not come until she found herself standing in front of his front door, having just pressed the doorbell.  
Feeling the panic rising up inside of her, Bedelia quickly began to plan for any escape routes, calculating the time she would need to reach her car and he would need to open the door, but before she had the chance to move a muscle, the door had swung open, revealing the man that had been on her mind ever since he had left her house several hours ago, standing slightly perplexed in the door frame. 

“Bedelia, this is a surprise.“

Only now did she realize that he wasn’t wearing his tie, vest or suit jacket and that he held a dishcloth between his hands.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your plans, I’m sorry. I just came here… to…“

Words failed her.

“Why don’t you come inside? I was just preparing Dinner,“ he said, trying to ever so politely to diffuse the situation and stepping aside to let her pass.

“I apologize if I’m ruining your evening.“

The smile on his face held so much warmth and adoration, Bedelia wondered if it had always been like that. 

“Of course not. I would not have asked you to spend it with me if I didn’t want you here. I’m glad you decided to come after all. Would you like a glass of wine?“

He gestured towards the kitchen, leading her through the hallway, resting a hand on the small of her back. Reaching their destination, Bedelia was met by the most amazing smell she had encountered in a long time.

“Bourride,“ she noted, peering towards the stove and across the countertops.

Walking towards the cupboards and retrieving a second glass for her, Hannibal chuckled. 

“Impressive. But I know how much you like the cuisine de la Provence, so I’m not surprised.“

He poured her a generous glass of white wine and extended it towards her, prompting her to abandon her safe spot near the door and make her way further into the heart of his home. 

“Was your insight of any help to the FBI?“ 

The question was spoken over the rim of her glass as if she was speaking to the wine and not to him at all. He had never seen her hide behind a prop, shying away from his gaze like a child but she was stood before him, one hand in her coat pocket, the other gripping her drink almost too tight. 

“I like to think that it was, but Bedelia you’re not here to ask about my work.“

The voice inside her mind couldn’t suppress the sarcastic comment, reminding her that he was finally getting the role reversal he always wanted, cornering her into telling him the truth.

“No, I didn’t. I actually wanted to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. Your suggestion was unexpected and… out of my comfort zone. This arrangement is so undefined and limitless that I find myself treading more carefully than I would like to admit and I projected my discontent onto you. I know how much you despise rudeness and I hope you can forgive me for dismissing you today.“ She still refused to lift her gaze from the drink in her hand, despite her voice remaining steady. Fear was not an emotion she had ever associated with the man across from her but handling rejection wasn’t her strong suit. 

When she had finished her rambling, Hannibal slowly walked around the counter, moving closer to Bedelia and plucking the wine glass from her grip. She could feel his breath on her skin and one of his hands lifted her chin to finally force her to look at him. Searching his face for any sign of contentment or the dreaded rejection, her fingers tightened inside of her pocket, almost crushing its’ contents. 

All she saw, however, was the bright look on his face she had seen just hours ago.

“Consider it forgotten. I may have a tendency to test and overstep boundaries, so my advance may have been too blunt.“

They share a smile, Hannibal memorizing every aspect of the rare expression on her, cherishing her beauty. 

Slowly, Bedelia lifted the hand still clutched inside her coat and raised it between their faces, dangling something green from between her fingers.

“May I suggest that I take you up on that blunt advance?,“ she asked, moving even closer tilting her face up towards him. 

He swept her up in his arms so quickly, kissing her with as much passion as he could muster, so that the single sprig of mistletoe lay forgotten at their feet within seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> -This was a prompt from my beautiful friend Karolina (@NotPersephone). It's tragically a little late because I lost my mojo. And because actual real-life Christmas happened. I hope this cheers you up a bit and that you enjoy what I've done with your idea, my love <33
> 
> -The title is Italian for "Under the Mistletoe", at least according to Google. 
> 
> -Bourride is a dish from the Marseille region in France of stewed white fish and aioli, but it sounds really pretentious. And Bedelia is at least part french in my headcanon.


End file.
